When Dean woke up, he was alone in bed.

"Yep, like I thought - it was a dream. Crazy, whacky, stress induced -."

Movement on the other bed made him look over. There was little Sammy, on that bed, sitting back on his knees, staring at big Sam.

This was a really weird dream.

Sam - big Sam - shifted in bed.

"Hey, don't wake - uh - you - up. C'mere." Dean said and lifted Sammy away from Sam, sitting back down on his own bed holding him in his lap. Well, if this was a dream, maybe Sammy couldn't wake - himself - up. If it wasn't a dream, maybe the painkiller was wearing off and Sam was waking up all on his own.

But if it wasn't a dream, what was it?

Sam only turned over, though, rolling onto his stomach, and stayed asleep.

Still a dream, then.

And a not-bad dream at that, Dean thought, with Sammy heavy, warm and familiar in his arms.

But something was wrong. When he looked down, Sammy's eyes were overflowing and his chin had that quiver again. Back at that age, age three or four, Sammy always cried loudest when things were easiest to fix. When he hardly made any sound at all, things were bad. And he wasn't making any sound at all now.

"What is it?" Dean asked. He followed Sammy's gaze back over to Sam asleep in his bed. "It's okay, Sammy. He's okay. You're okay. Just sleeping. Like we should be. He's asleep."

But Sammy shook his head and shivered in Dean's arms.

"Scary." He whispered. "Is scary."

"What's scary?"

"I dunno!" Sammy answered like he'd been asked it a million times and was tired of it. "Is scary!" And his resolve broke into hiccupped sobs and he didn't even reach up for Dean, he only leaned against him like he was exhausted and broken, shivering and hiccupping and breaking Dean's heart.

"Okay, Sammy. Okay."

Dean stood up and shifted Sammy to his shoulder, where he wouldn't see Sam, who was still just asleep, breathing easily, wrapped around in the blanket that had rolled with him when he turned over.

Just looking at Sam, it was hard to believe he had a live time bomb ticking away inside his head. Twice now a brick had fallen off the "Great Wall of Sam" that was supposed to be keeping hell back; who knew how many more bricks there were, and each one just waiting to fall and let through another blast of hellfire.

It wasn't just the seizures that scared Dean, and knowing that each one brought Sam that much closer to emotional annihilation, it was the thought that one could happen when Sam was driving, or taking a shower, or about to face down a monster, or standing in line to get them coffee, or just anytime Dean wasn't around or couldn't get to him fast enough to protect him.

It was like Sam had friggin' just been diagnosed with epilepsy and Dean had to start thinking about medic-alert bracelets, high-fat diets, making there was never locked a door between them, and maybe getting a dog that could sense seizures before they happened.

"Life's just never easy, is it?"

On his shoulder, Sammy sniffled and coughed and whimpered, "Scary," shaking and clinging to Dean.

"Okay, Sammy. Okay." Dean soothed. He rubbed Sammy's back and started pacing back and forth across the narrow motel room, hoping to calm him down. "Everything's OK. Just relax. Just go to sleep. Okay? Go to sleep, Sammy."

"Is scary, Dean. Is scary."

"No, nothing's scary. How can anything be scary when I'm around? Hunh? I'm your awesome big brother. Right? Don't I always take care of you?"

He felt the nod and the squeeze. Heard the little voice say,

"Sorry."

"No, don't be sorry. It's okay to be scared." Dean started lightly bouncing Sammy in his

arms. He seemed to remember the motion from when Sammy really was this size and needed to be cuddled and soothed. "Don't be sorry."

Sniffle, "'kay," squeeze.

"Okay." Dean said. He smiled; dream or hallucination or whatever this was, Sammy was just the same here as he was then. Easy to soothe, easy to placate. Easy to carry close and protect. Dean only had to say it, and it was so.

Another look to big Sam made Dean sigh.

"I wish it was still that easy. But no, you had to grow up stubborn and angry. And bossy when I let you get away with it. But you know what?" He leaned his head back a little to get a better look at the shaggy head pressing down on his shoulder. "I've never met anybody better than you, you know that? No matter what."

He didn't really expect an answer, and all he got was the grumble of an empty little stomach.

"You're hungry? Really? In a dream, you're hungry?"

"M'ungry." Sammy nodded.

"Okay, let's see what we've got." Dean carried him over to the cupboards in the kitchenette.

"I know we had some crackers, maybe some of that spray cheese. I think I'll save the beer until you're at least fourteen..."

He scanned the fridge and then opened the cupboard. An unopened box of Lucky Charms stood on the middle shelf.

"Okay, now I know I'm in a dream because we did not have these the last time I looked in here."

Sammy lifted a wobbly head and reached an arm toward the cupboard.

"That. Wan' that."

"Okay, Lucky Charms it is." One handed, Dean popped the box and the wax wrapper inside, and poured a couple handfuls into a used waxed cardboard coffee cup. "C'mon, let's get comfy on the bed."

He sat on the bed, back against the headboard and set Sammy on his lap, with his little back resting against Dean's bent knees. Dean offered him the cup of cereal.

"Have at it."

Dean held the cup while Sammy ate pinchfuls of cereal and marshmallow bits out of it, and he looked over at Sam. He was still turned onto his stomach, rolled in his blankets, asleep. When he woke up in the morning, he'd say he was fine. He'd drink his coffee and eat his breakfast not wanting to talk about his latest flashback. He'd find - or push Dean to find - the next hunt. And in a couple of hours they'd be back on the road, each mile and each minute taking them closer to the next break in the wall.

"Scary."

Dean looked back at Sammy, who was staring at Sam.

"You think he's scary when he's sleeping, you should see him when he's upright and pissed."

Sammy turned big, teary eyes to him. He stared at Dean so long, Dean ran a finger around one chubby cheek and asked,

"What?"

"Don't be scared." Sammy said.

"Me? You think I'm scared?"

"Uh hunh."

"Scared of what?"

And the little shoulders shrugged.

"I dunno."

And another pinchful of cereal got eaten.

Dean patted a finger against the hand Sammy wasn't using to eat the cereal, and Sammy responded by wrapping his little hand around Dean's finger and holding on.

"Don't be scared, Dean." He said again, around a mouthful of cereal crumbs "'kay?"

"Have you ever seen me scared, Sammy?"

"Un hunh."

"When?" But then Dean considered who he was talking to. "Do you mean your me, or me-me?"

Sammy laughed, scrunching his face in delight the way he used to at that age. When he used to laugh. "You said Mimi." Then he laughed again.

"I said 'me-me'." Dean said it again, leaning close to Sammy then pulling back fast as he said it.

"Mimi." Sammy said. He leaned closer and pulled back too, and laughed again.

"Me-me."

"Mimi."

It was good to see Sammy happy, and about something so innocent and silly as a funny sounding word. Even if he was a dream or an hallucination, or a figment of Dean's exhausted, anxious imagination. It was nice to hear genuine, giddy, laughter.

"Hey, don't I get any of those?" He asked, when Sammy went back to eating the cereal.

"What is this - one dog, one bone?"

And Sammy laughed, and held out a pinchful of cereal, and Dean leaned forward to eat it out of his fingers. He figured they'd eat some cereal and try for some more sleep, and if Sammy was still here when he woke, then Dean would look into getting some help solving this, get Sammy back where he belonged.

Sammy laughed and offered him more cereal, and Dean couldn't decide if he hoped Sammy was still here or not when he woke up again.

to be continued